It took far longer than he wanted to identify his target amidst the strolling mass of people. Not that the clock was an issue, just a strain on his patience. He noticed tresses of long blonde hair trailing in the wind at the rail of the stern deck, courtesy of the stiff ocean breeze, and set off towards her. She spoke the moment he shuffled up alongside.
“Hiya,”
“Hi,” he said.
Her gloved hand slipped round his arm and pulled him so close it felt like their bodies were surgically attached.
“It’s so cold,” she complained.
“We’re not exactly in the Mediterranean.”
“No,” she said after a pause. “But it’s still stunning.”
He couldn’t disagree. All around them lay ocean, further than the eyes could see. Unusually placid it was a beguiling sight, enchanting and hypnotic all at the same time. Rosa’s subdued demeanour had lasted throughout the journey to port and since boarding. Perhaps the serenity of the calm ocean had helped to soothe her spirit.
“What’s Catherine got planned for when we arrive?” asked Rosa.
“I never asked.”
“That’s unlike you. Normally you can’t keep your nose out of anyone’s business.”
“I’m more concerned about getting you back to civilisation safe and sound.”
The conversation stopped as quickly as it had started so he said the first thing that came to mind.
“I was sorry to hear about ...”
“One of those unfortunate experiences that life seems to throw at people on occasion,” she said. “No big deal.”
While he could understand her reticence to talk about the subject the need to say something meaningful wouldn’t leave him. Sensing his desire to add to his earlier remark she leaned over and kissed at his lips.
“What was that for?”
“Shut up and enjoy the scenery.”
He obediently looked out at the horizon, mind nonplussed as to what she might be thinking. It wasn’t too long before she broke the silence.
“How’s life with Gratia?”
“I thought you told me to shut up.”
“I’m allowed to change my mind,” she smiled. “So how is it, with Gratia?”
“Good,” he said. “We’ve recently moved into a new house, on the west coast.”
“You’re beginning to settle down then?”
“I guess.”
“Guess?”
More questions, about himself.
“You know,” he said.
“No, I don’t know.”
“It feels right with her,” he said. “Don’t ask me to explain it because I wouldn’t know where to start. It just sort of feels right, like we were meant to be together. Only...”
“Only what?” she asked.
“She seems a little unsettled of late.”
“About what exactly?” she asked.
“Nonsense about planning the future,” he said. “I thought we were happy enough as we were.”
Rosa’s throaty laugh burst out into the sea air, deafening his left ear.
“What’s so funny?”
“You really don’t understand women do you, Matt?”
Her face lit up in a bright smile to counter the childish look of confusion on his face, simultaneously tugging at his arm to urge him away from the railing.
“Let’s walk.”
They strolled along the deck, wrapped tightly together in protection against the stiffening breeze.
“She wants a commitment from you,” said Rosa.
“We’ve bought a house together. How more committed can you get for Christ’s sake?”
“She’s not talking about possessions.”
“Then what is she talking about?”
“You,” she said.
“You’ve lost me.”
“A clear statement from you of your own long term belief in the relationship,” she said. “Some sort of spiritual gesture to show the world you are bound together.”
“She wants me to go to church on a Sunday?”
“Only if it involves a wedding ceremony,” she laughed.
“What!”
“Or children,” she said. “Who knows what’s in her mind until you sit down and talk to her properly.”
“No, she would have said!”
“Just because she hasn’t openly raised either subject it doesn’t mean they haven’t been on her mind.”
“I know, but marriage, children?”
“The thought must have crossed your mind about one and the other, or both, at some time in the past.”
“No.”
“You’ve never given any thought to either?”
“No.”
“What did you think was going to happen, you would both just grow old together?”
“Something of the sort,” he said. “Nobody gets married these days and, as for kids, well …”
“What do you mean?”
“The bloody things are voracious, bottomless money pits, a constant drain on mind and soul.”
“I think you’d make a good father.”
“You’re beginning to sound exactly like Catherine Vogel now.”
“Catherine?”
“Yes. She introduced me to her new brat when I went to see her, put the bloody thing in my arms while she answered the telephone.”
“Did she really?” said Rosa, seeming genuinely bemused by the episode.
“It was bloody frightening.”
The conversation descended into silence as they continued the gentle stroll along the deck. Periods of silence with Rosa had never been uncomfortable.
“Does the idea of marriage or children alter the way you feel towards Gratia?”
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I really don’t know.”
“Why do you think getting you to commit is so important to her at the moment?”
He shook his head as if he didn’t know, forgetting about Rosa’s unique ability to read his mind.
“She thinks I’m carrying a torch for someone from my past,” he finally admitted.
“Who exactly?” she asked.
“Someone,” was all he said.
They strolled some more, pacing along the polished deck at a uniform speed taking in the fresh air. The silence pleased him. Hopefully she’d run out of questions.
“Things haven’t quite worked for me either,” she said, out of the blue. “I’ve changed, Stefan’s changed. We no longer see eye to eye on things, can’t agree on anything.”
“Since the miscarriage?” he asked.
“No, the abortion,” she said.
He halted immediately.
“Abortion, what abortion?” he said. “Catherine told me you lost the child for medical reasons.”
“Abortion is a medical procedure.”
“That’s not the way she described it.”
“It’s the way it was.”
“But I thought you wanted a child.”
“An accident,” she said. “No-one but myself to blame, I got careless. I realised at a very early stage motherhood isn’t for me, it’s not in my make-up, so it was an easy decision to make. Unfortunately, Stefan didn’t quite see things the same way I did.”
“Didn’t you talk about it, beforehand?”
“You mean the way you and Gratia tell each other what you want out of your relationship.”
“Touché,” he said.
Her smile was weak, sad even, but at least he now felt as if he had a better understanding of why she had decided to join the others. In her mind the relationship with Stefan was dead and she had nothing to return to so there wasn’t anywhere else to go. It disturbed Matt she had seemed to give up so easily, too easily as far as he was concerned, not that it was any of his business. He questioned for how long she might stay on her return, or if she would stay at all.
“What a pair,” he said, as they resumed the walk.
Her throaty laugh filled the surrounding air, causing the passers-by to turn
their heads in curiosity.
“You’d have thought all the first class cabins would have had a double bed,” she said.
He smiled.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I was only making an observation.”
“Humph,” he said. “One of these days you’re teasing will get you into trouble.”
They continued to walk.
“Who said I was teasing?”
The next few paces went without comment.
“We’ve got the cabin I asked for,” he eventually said.
There was little reaction, other than a gentle squeeze to his arm.
“I think I’ll have the pasta for dinner,” she said.
The last time he was on a cruise he could barely hear the hum of the ship’s engines. He could on this one, the steady drone making it almost impossible to concentrate. Perhaps this is why the majority of the passengers referred to the vessel as a ferry. To describe the passage as a cruise had to bordering on a criminal offence. He slipped over to the next page as Rosa emerged from the bathroom, torso concealed in a white towel tightly wrapped around her frame. He knew that she knew his eyes had been drawn towards her except his attention was on the two letters seemingly welded together at the end of the gold chain. R and C, Rosa Cain he assumed. The fixture came as something of a surprise. Rosa had never been ostentatious. She disappeared behind the patterned screen separating the two beds from the lounge area and he heard her rubbing a towel vigorously against her head to dry the long blonde hair. He toyed with the thought of standing to look out of the wide cabin window and then remembered it wasn’t clean enough on the other side to see anything. The cabins should have bloody balconies to escape to, he muttered inwardly as he turned the next page.
“What are you reading?” she asked.
“It’s a book about teenage vampires.”
“Where did you get it from?”
“Someone bought it for me.”
“And you’ve been carrying it around?”
“It doesn’t take up too much room and helps to pass away the travelling time.”
“Any good?” she asked.
“Not really, but it was a present so it would be rude not to read the damn thing.”
Her face popped out from behind the screen.
“What’s it called?”
He held up the novel to show her the front cover and her face screwed up in unpleasant surprise.
“Best seller a couple of years back,” she said. “They made a movie out of it and the studio made a fortune. The kids were queuing round the block to see it.”
“Explains what’s wrong with the world,” he moaned.
She let out a laugh and retreated out of view. He listened to the sounds of her dressing for the evening meal and for a while lost focus on the book. With his imagination threatening to run riot he forced himself to continue reading, galloping far too quickly through the next few pages.
“Ready,” she called.
“What, no make-up?”
“No time for that,” she said. “I don’t need make up to eat and I’m hungry.”
Some things never changed about Rosa.
Coffee arrived and he suspended the small jug of cream above her cup.
“No thanks.”
Mindless, irrelevant small talk had been the order of the night. The décor, the sheer ordinariness of the meal and the general attire of the surrounds and its passengers had been encompassed in the evening’s conversation. Almost anything except what was important. But he could tell something was on her mind.
“I’m not going back,” she said.
The rim of the cup dropped away from his lips as he fought to contain the startled look in his eyes. If she had meant it as a joke she wasn’t laughing.
“What did you say?”
“I’m not going back,” she said. “Once we’ve disembarked and the stuff has been verified I’m gone.”
The certainty in her voice worried him, almost as much as the deliberate choice of location to break the sudden news.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“This way we’ll avoid having a heated argument. You don’t like to draw attention to yourself in public, and by the time you’ve left the table you will have calmed down.”
“Rosa, we agreed.”
“It’s your plan, not mine.”
Infuriation came nowhere close to describing his anger, but he knew he couldn’t vent his feelings here as she had already worked out.
“Rosa …”
“End of,” she said.
“It will ruin everything.”
“No it won’t.”
He slumped back in exasperated silence, mood darkening with each passing second. If ever there was an occasion where a man had just cause to give a woman a good slapping, to knock some sense into her, this must surely have been it. He glared into her eyes.
“You understand why,” she eventually said.
“No, I don’t.”
“Let’s not play games, Matt.”
“I’m not,” he replied. “The man idolises you, worships the ground you walk on. After Catherine introduced us he was virtually on his knees begging me to help bring you back. So I don’t understand, don’t understand at all.”
“It was an act.”
“Give the guy a break for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m telling you, it was an act.”
“And I’m telling you. The man was in pieces, shattered. If that was an act then it was pretty convincing.”
The tension deepened.
“We all make mistakes,” she said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stefan. Marrying him was a big mistake, a rebound thing. I know that now.”
“Such as that may be you still owe it to him to talk face to face, be honest with him.”
“The words pot, kettle and black spring to mind.”
Anger sharpened inside him.
“Stop trying to change the subject.”
“Why are you here, Matt? Why have you decided to get involved? I mean, if life is so bloody wonderful and rosy back in Victoria.”
She had a point. He’d begun to question his own motives since their chat on the deck. Not that this did anything to quell his rising antagonism. Who the hell was she to question him anyway? This was a time for calm he reasoned. The trouble was, his emotions failed to connect with his brain.
“You’re mind has been too well trained to make that kind of mistake. It’s more calculating than that,” he said.
“Screw you, Matt Durham.”
Now he’d done it. He closed his eyes and cursed inwardly for allowing her to get under his skin. Stay focused, he kept telling himself. Get the argument back on to your terms.
“Of all the character weaknesses you could possibly name, self-interest is the absolute last I would ever have attributed to Rosa Cain.”
The expected barb didn’t arrive. She glanced away, her gaze drifting off into the distance. By the time it settled back onto his face, cold and uninviting, he’d regained self control. He hadn’t seen this one coming, not that she had offered any earlier clues. Reason was undoubtedly the best way forward. If only he had the time.
“You’re going back if I have to drag you there.”
“You’re welcome to have a go,” she said.
“For Christ’s sake, Rosa …”
“Pray as hard as you like. I’ve decided I’m not going back so you might as well take me with you.”
“If you don’t return it will arouse suspicion, potentially putting everyone at risk; Toby, Will, Johnno and Lily. You surely can’t want that.”
Waiting for a reply was like waiting for a bus, you couldn’t be quite sure when it would arrive. He turned his attention to the ceiling, hardly daring to breathe in case he lost his temper completely. He decided his best option was to have another go at trying to be reasonable.
“Whatever happened to the team comes fi
rst, all for one and one for all?”
“I’m not part of the team, am I?”
With those few words Rosa stood and left the dinner table at pace, leaving a bewildered Matt staring into thin air. His first instinct was to run after her and give her a good shaking. The feeling quickly passed once he’d got over the shock and he elected to wander into the main bar area instead. The noise of the live band thumped at his head but he was determined to have a drink, anything with alcohol. Tillman had written how Rosa was not easy to manage at times. Matt was beginning to appreciate the observation.
His mind whirled with anger and disbelief for some time, broken only by the arrival of a female presence occupying the adjoining stool.
“I notice you’re on your own,” said the woman’s voice.
Young was his assessment, early twenties wearing next to nothing with close cropped dark hair and heavy application of mascara. Her bright inquisitive eyes left him in no doubt she was interested. Either that or she was working the day job. Or, in this case perhaps, night duty.
“No, I’m just drinking alone.”
“My mistake,” she said. “I thought you looked like a man in need of company.”
“You’re right,” he said. “It was a mistake.”
He downed the remainder of the alcohol and pushed the glass away, ready to leave. The barman noticed him move and sped over to suggest a refill.
“Please, let me get that,” offered the woman. “It’s the least I can do and I wouldn’t want you to hold any hard feelings towards me.”
“There’s no danger of me feeling hard at all,” he said, and stepped away.
His surreptitious entrance was met by the unwelcoming sight of darkness, the drawn curtains extinguishing any prospect of the outside moonlight somehow forcing its way into the cabin to light his way. One pace was as much as it took for his toes to make contact with the first piece of furniture. He stifled the curse, peering in the direction of the beds to check for any sign of movement. He might as well have been looking into a bottomless pit. Hands spread cautiously along the wall until he located the door handle to the bathroom.
Prising it open presented him with an opportunity to swing his body inside and switch on the light. He eased the door shut and set about readying for the night, the thought of waking her from slumber occupying his mind throughout the preparation. The toothbrush settled into the tumbler and he decided to sleep on it before attempting to tackle her again. The door eased ajar and he spotted the mound in the furthest bed, head covered by the sheet in all too obvious reference of her refusal to engage in the slightest conversation. He flicked the light switch and edged to the bed, dropping his clothes in a heap onto the floor before crawling in.
The noisy drone of the ship’s engines aggravated his sense of frustration, Rosa’s unreasonableness gnawing at his efforts to find sleep. He turned for the umpteenth time and decided to have it out with her once and for all.
“Rosa?”
He waited, counting to ten in his head.
“Rosa,” he said again.
The word went unanswered. He listened for moments on end unable to discern any sound of movement or breathing from her direction.
“Have it your own way,” he snapped, and covered up.
Hour after hour he followed the passage of time through the luminous hands on his watch. At the point he managed to drift off he was awoken with a start by loud rapping at the cabin door. He leapt from the bed and fumbled for the handle to pull the door open.
“What?”
The newly revealed face, youthful and vaguely familiar through his angry red eyes, smiled politely.
“I thought I told you I wasn’t interested.”
“The ship has docked. I am to escort you.”
“Define exactly what you mean by escort so there’s no room for misunderstanding.”
It was then he noticed the mountainous black man stood behind her.
“This is my colleague, Jeremiah Stone, Jerry to his friends. Do you welcome everyone without clothes on?”
He looked down at his unguarded privacy.
“Some people are impressed.”
“You’ve obviously never showered with Jerry.”
Considered thought started to return to his senses.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Wait here,” he said.
“It’s a little late to play the modesty card.”
“I said wait.”
He retreated to the sanctum of the cabin, making a beeline for the mound in the other bed.
“Rosa, get up. It’s time to get off.”
She made no effort to stir.
“Rosa, stop behaving like a child and get up!”
Her refusal to answer shattered what remaining patience he had. Matt gripped at the covers and tore them away to unleash the prepared reprimand. The words got stuck in his throat. He stared blankly at the carefully positioned clothing wrapped around the pillow and his jaw dropped.
“Where is she?” asked the voice behind him.
Matt refused to believe his own eyes.
“Where is she?” repeated the voice.
“I thought I told you to wait outside.”
“You left the door open.”
“Well shut it on your way out.”
“But where is she?”
“Where is who?”
“Your companion,” she said.
“I don’t seem to recall telling you I was with anyone.”
“The manifest shows two people registered for this cabin and both boarded.”
“Look, who the bloody hell are you exactly?”
“I told you. I’m your escort.”
“You could be anybody.”
“The Milieu Derivative,” she replied.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“To me, nothing,” she said. “I was instructed to use the phrase to make contact.”
“Who asked you to make contact?”
“Catherine Vogel of course,” she said.
He took a deep breath.
“What makes Catherine think I need an escort?”
“You clearly need help from someone or else you wouldn’t have lost your companion.”
“I have not lost anyone!”
“Then where is she?”
“I don’t know,” he eventually said. “She can’t have gone too far. I’ll start the search and you inform Catherine.”
“You might wish to dress first,” she said on leaving.
He ignored her. All he could think of was the pressing question of where Rosa could have gone.
“Crap!” he said.
Chapter Twenty Four
Inevitable